


Lies the Promises Hold

by KrisEleven



Series: Falls the Shadow [5]
Category: Circle of Magic - Tamora Pierce, Emelan - Tamora Pierce, PIERCE Tamora - Works
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Implied Underage, Present Tense, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:39:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisEleven/pseuds/KrisEleven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They all know an empty promise when they hear it, by now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lies the Promises Hold

**Author's Note:**

> This follows all four and takes place in different times of their lives.

Daja is ten years old.

She has been taken into battle on a pirate's ship, as the greed of another drives her into the heart of a firestorm. No one thinks twice about her being on the ship, no one cares that she is there only because she was lucky enough (or unlucky, she supposes, since it didn't really turn out for her, now did it) to be the only one alive while her family sleeps (died) under the waves. No one cares because she is a slave, and she isn't important enough for people to wonder why she is on deck with a boom-stone flying towards her, not important enough for anyone to care that she is going to die.

She screams and, suddenly, she feels the boom-stone as if it was a part of her. Bronze and iron and sulfur and charcoal blaze in her minds-eye, and as she throws out her hands she pushes it away because she does not want to die; not even to rejoin her family and escape the fire and screaming and fear, does she want to die now.

The boom-stone flies on an angle, as if her wild swing had connected and sent it awry. It explodes, spraying the ship with a sheet of water. Her braids are soaked to her scalp and Daja looks at her hands and back up in astonishment. She scans the deck, confusion setting in, and she supposes she just wants to be sure there is a ship around her, still (not like last time she got a scare at sea), she see the pirate captain, Enahar, watching her closely.

She thinks that she would have been better off with the boom-stone.

(She changes her mind about this impression many times, but, as the years pass, decides that she was probably right).

* * *

Sandrilene fa Toren is eleven years old.

It is the first time she has been in a well-lit room since her parents died, and she can't help but duck her head and reach for a hood that is not there. They took her cloak of rags and changed her into a new dress ( _first new dress in a year_ , she thinks, smoothing the hand over fabric that doesn't know her well enough to be a second skin, and this makes her feel uncomfortable and vulnerable) before they would take her to her cousin. They bathed her and combed her hair, too, but it didn't take the wildness out of her, and Sandry knows this as soon as she walks in. The curtsy comes naturally, but the light (too much light, too much light, too much light, too much light) does not, and neither does her smile. Too many people staring at her, even with just her cousin and an older lady who stands behind her, and two servants, and one guard (Sandry is used to counting the people in a room, if not usually by sight). The old woman, with grey in her light hair, starts when she sees Sandry as if she's seen a ghost and stares at her, intensely. A hand of hers drifts out as if to hold Berenene back when she moves to embrace her long-lost cousin, but it isn't what one does to an Empress. Sandry flinches backwards, though, the thought of that much contact with a person too much for her to keep composure through, and that does that on its own (though it isn't what you're supposed to do with an Empress, either).

Berenene tries to smile, but hers is as forced as Sandry's is, now. Sandry supposes her cousin hadn't thought through just what she would be getting when she paid the ransom.

She covers her eyes because she can't take the light anymore, and screams when someone touches her arm.

* * *

Roach doesn't know how old he is.

There was more important stuff to think on, when he was runnin' the streets. It's not like the Thief Lord would be throwin' a shin-dig, wishin' him a good day and a rich year, givin' out gifts. There was nothin' to mark the seasons but wet feet and cold feet and dry feet – no food and no food and no food – rags and layers of rags and not enough rags to keep from shiverin' out of one's damned skin.

Even so, he's been at the docks for better part of a year, and has learned the ropes. Work until you can't work no more but keep workin', less you want a beating. Don't look anyone in the eye. Don't get in front of someone bigger'n you in food line, or they'll beat ya out of it. Don't smart-talk the guards because they can hurt you, and you can't do nothin' about it. Don't gang up with anyone weak. Don't end up alone with anyone, because you never know what they'll want from you.

Except Roach knows exactly what is wanted from him, when he breaks his last rule and slips into a shed to grab a length of rope that isn't frayed to the beyond, because you can't ask someone else to go with you; then you'll be alone with them won't cha? And he needs the rope to keep working (see rule one), and he thought he'd slipped away all sneaky-like without anyone the wiser, but it didn't work out. The sun comin' in behind him is shaded as one of the new men in his group, arrived just yesterday, fills the space in the door. Roach drops the rope onto the shelf, as near the door as he can reach without gettin' in grabbin' distance – and tucks his hands behind him, backin' away slowly, but there's nowhere to run.

The man knows it; he smiles.

* * *

She is fifteen years old.

They asked for her name, when she woke up in this strange place, but she's having a hard time remembering it. She knows, somewhere inside, that it's because of the hospital they put her in. Not these people, but ones with the same coloured robes and smiles and empty words. The hospital kept her on potions and put spells on her and made it hard to think, and hard to make the world do what she wanted it to. She knows that she has forgotten things, but that's the funny thing about forgetting, because it is gone gone gone and she can't get it back.

Just like she can't get her silence back. Oh, it is still hers. She hasn't spoken to them, after all, not all the time she's been in this little locked room in a temple in... Emelan, they said. She remembers that country from a book of maps, from before the temple and their hospital. She doesn't like to think of that time, but the book is a safe topic, one that doesn't make the wind gust and the earth shake, so she thinks about that map and wonders how many potions they had to give her to get her all the way from Capchen to Emelan without her waking up.

No wonder she can't think in a straight line, something she is sure she was able to do, once. At least once she got herself out of the hospital. No more locks when there were no more doors, and no keys needed when no one was left to hold them...

But the silence is broken as the person in front of her talks and talks. He is in a blue robe and he wants her to tell him her name, but she won't because she remembers it, now that things are getting a little less hazy and the world doesn't feel like it is running away from her brain anymore, but she also remembers how the last temple she was in locked her away, and he is wearing the same robe and she keeps her silence locked around her.

Tris watches the Dedicates warily and says nothing.

* * *

The empty promise Daja was told:

"This is all we'll ask of you."

They were limping away from the temple on the seaside, where they had taken Daja into the firestorm and managed to kill and be killed, but not to get what they wanted, in the end. There are some slaves in coloured robes on another ship, but they had lost nearly half of their pirates and would have lost more had Daja not sent away that last stone. That is what Enahar is talking about, now; about how she did that and what it means and what he wants her to do with it.

Because she felt the boom-stone in her head and can practically see how it was made. She thinks she could make one, like Enahar is asking, if she had the time to figure everything out. That makes the pirate captain ask questions rapidly, like shooting out orders, when her moving things around didn't get him nearly so interested. That is what made him make his promise.

Does she want to make boom-stones? No, but he is talking about getting her back to the Battle Islands and leaving her there to work on them. No more ocean with its killer storms and over-board slaves and fire-screaming-fear? She doesn't care that he's lying through his teeth, because she just wants to get solid land beneath her feet and forget how terrifying war was, forget that she ever made a life at sea and loved it.

She knows very well that he'll ask more of her than this; that he will demand she give more and more weapons, because his greed is there to see in his eyes (greed for destruction as well as wealth, because he wasn't scared in the fire, he was _excited_ ), but she accepts because it is the lesser of two evils.

Daja pretends that she doesn't know she is signing her life away to the greed in Enahar's eyes and believes his empty promise.

* * *

The empty promise Roach was told:

"I won't hurt you, boy."

Roach very nearly rolls his eyes. Well, he wants to, but knows that if he takes his eyes off'a the man he is gonna be in deep trouble, so he doesn't say anything. His hands are still behind his back as the man approaches, breathing heavily.

As he reaches out to touch Roach's arm, the boy twists and lunges, bringing his hands out from behind his back to reveal two shivs, one made of a broken wooden handle and one of actual metal he had fished out of the shallows, some debris from a ship sunk out at sea, somewhere. The metal one cuts the tendon in the man's wrist, the wooden one into the gut and the man screams and swings wildly at Roach. The fists connect – nowhere to dodge in this stupid little shed – but he rolls with it, ending up under the shelf, which runs the length of the shed and right to the door. He crawls until he is past the bleedin', cursin' man. He reaches back only to grab the rope he dropped onto the shelf and rushes into the light.

His crew is split in their reaction, less than half of them owin' money. He wasn't even good bettin' material anymore, since he always had his knives on him, somewhere, and was still street-quick. It wasn't the first time someone had tried to get 'im, and wouldn't be the last, but only the new ones tried it now. The rest of 'em had a nickname for him, and the sharp things he always had on hand for when it was least expected – Briar.

Briar gets back to work without even a guard punishin' him for the time away, which is a good day on the docks for a convict. He thinks about stupid promises and how they mean nothin' and he doesn't care because he always has his knives (but he wishes he had never had to hear anyone lie to him about _that_ in the first place).

* * *

The empty promise Sandry was told:

"Everything is going to be just fine, now."

They had managed to figure out to get rid of some of the lamps, so after Sandry had calmed down she and her cousin sit to speak about her future in Namorn.

"I want very much for you to stay here, my dear cousin," the Empress says, sounding a little less certain after actually meeting Sandry.

The older woman, the mage Isha, steps in with a, "Oh, I am sure your Majesty would agree that _clehame_ Sandrilene would be more comfortable somewhere quieter, away from the bustle of court, at least for a while."

Sandry supposes they think her stupid, but she is not. She has had a year to develop a nack for reading between the lines of conversations; she had so often heard just snatches of conversation among her captors and had to piece together her situation from it. Isha does not want her anywhere near her Empress; she is nearly twitching with anxiety and Sandry needs to piece together just why that is. She will, eventually – when she is in the dark again and can relax.

"My cousin is gracious," she says, remembering her part to play now that the light has retreated to a single lamp, "but my lady Isha is correct. I would much rather somewhere quiet where I can... recover from the past year."

She ducks her head to hide her expression as Berenene pats her arm. She supposes it makes her look frail and overwhelmed, which is good; better than disgusted, anyway.

"And you shall have it, my dear," Berenene says, "I will make the arrangements to have to join my daughters –" Isha twitches. "–just as soon as you are up to the travel."

"Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty." Sandry stands and curtsies, dismissing herself. It is rude and Berenene knows it and stiffens, but she pretends to have thought of it first and Sandry cannot help it when the light is digging into her eyes and she can stand it no more.

As she walks to the door Isha says, " _Clehame_ , forgive me, but I have forgotten... were you tested for magic when you were young?"

 _Ah ha_ , Sandry thinks, but says, "Of course, _viymese_ , and they saw not a speck."

She walks out on her royal cousin and her very nervous Great Mage, thinking of magic and herself, piecing things together.

She had dismissed Berenene's assurance as soon as it was uttered; everything would be fine, or, just as Sandry wanted it to be, because she would insist on just that.

* * *

The empty promise Tris was told:

"It won't be like that again."

And Tris really, really wants to laugh because the door is _locked_ , you idiots. You lock me in, just like they locked me in, after force-feeding me potions while I was under your spell, just like their hospital did, and you expect me to believe a single word you say?

Tris says nothing as the Dedicates assure her that they will not hurt her, that she has magic- not a spirit or madness, that her life will get better at Winding Circle, that she will be safe.

Knowing that they are lying (they are all liars, in the end), Tris doesn't listen to a word they say. Her grey eyes gaze about the room until they fall upon the window that does not latch.

She waits for them to leave so she can make her escape from this new prison they hold her in.

* * *

They all know an empty promise when they hear it, by now.

* * *

(But, oh, how they all want to believe the lies the promises hold)


End file.
